


A Supernatural Fairytale: Dean Smith/Godstiel

by LettreDeMarque



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (i think), (you have been warned), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Canonical Character Death, Comedy, Crack Fic, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Episode: s06e22 The Man Who Knew Too Much, Fluff, I think it's technically crack but I'm not postive, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Time Travel, it got kinda serious at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettreDeMarque/pseuds/LettreDeMarque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p><p>A fluffy cracked fic where the apocalypse didn't happen, but Cas still became god. A small band of rebels come together to plan a coup d'état to throw Castiel off his heavenly throne. To do this they hook the romantically challenged Godstiel up with the most average human they could find, Dean Smith. </p><p>Hilarity naturally ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: How Cas Became God

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [A Supernatural Fairytale: Dean Smith/Godstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3306869) by [sorrow_key](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key)



> I don't know why, but I had this burning desire to read a Dean Smith/Godstiel fluffy crack. Since I couldn't find one, I decided to write one. Mwa hahahaha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend reading this story in a London accent. If you don't have one handy, find a friend who does or find a friend willing to kidnap a Londoner. Or if you absolutely must I suppose an American accent will do.

I.

Once upon a time, someone somewhere made a mistake. It wasn’t the end of the world or anything because _that_ was actually supposed to happen.

 It wasn’t set in stone because why waste a perfectly good slab when the Natural Resource department was already up in arms about the budget cuts, but everybody had it written down on their calendars that in the year of our Lord 2014 AD the world was supposed to end.

But it didn’t.

Humanity never did and probably never will understand the well oiled machine that is the heavenly host. It wasn’t like in some of the eastern religions where there was an extensive interview process followed by a background check and after serving for a millennia or two gods could step down and retire. Angels had been created for their roles in the divine plan. An angel had one job for their entire existence. No promotions, but no lay offs either. It was the ultimate in job security plus it cut out a lot of the bullshit politics other organizations suffered from.

Despite its almost absolute perfection, the heavenly host was still only “almost perfect.” Little mistakes happen. When you spend your existence as waves of celestial intent mingling among hundreds of other waves and everybody’s talking at once on Angel Radio, things get lost. It was a one in a billion chance, but it happened. The Genealogy Department sent a message to the Fate/Destiny Department who forwarded the request to the Death Department. Somebody forgot to CC the message or something because Death’s secretary was out picking up fried jalapenos and never laid eyes on the memo.

If anybody noticed, they didn’t care because it only affected the life of one puny human.

Except it didn’t

Joseph E. Smith did not die at the hands of a supernatural creature while saving the life of his younger twin, Daniel. As a result Daniel never studied the occult, never sought revenge for his brother, and he never joined the Men of Letters.

And most importantly Daniel never took on his mentor’s last name upon initiation because he was never initiated. So, after dying at a ripe old age ignorant to the evils of the world, they carved “Smith” onto his tombstone instead of “Winchester”.

Oops.

 

II.

If one could imagine the burden of being a single parent of not just one child, but all of creation then one would be one step closer to realizing the mind of God. Unfortunately, it is an unwritten law that the human mind cannot conceive of a mind or being greater than itself. This is why to the human perception angels and deities act in a matter more befitting to unruly children than higher beings. It is the celestial equivalent of using baby-talk towards an infant. It is not completely unfair to compare humanity to infancy. The species is in fact very young in the grand scheme of the universe, but as any parent will tell you babies grow up way too fast. With his youngest “child” cruising around like a toddler, old enough to be curious but not quite old enough to borrow the car keys, God left the older siblings in charge and stepped out to run some errands. The Universe could survive on its own for five minutes. Of course a celestial minute is much longer than an earthly minute. God created the world in a celestial week. Ask a geologist how long that actually took. God would be gone for a while.

 

III.

It should be remembered that “apocalypse” is a human concept. It is the end of the world as we know it. In Heaven they simply refer to is as “spring cleaning”. It is a pleasantly busy time when all the angels work overtime to get caught up on their paperwork. All the filing is checked and reorganized. Most importantly, however, the nursery gets cleaned. It’s utterly ridiculous to imaging a baby cleaning up after itself and humanity was still too young to handle the responsibility.

Lucifer was still in time out after mouthing off to dad before he left. The details get a little fuzzy since not everyone was present _and_ paying attention when it happened. There was something about humanity being created in God’s image and so the angels were supposed to love humans as they loved God. Some words were exchanged and feelings got hurt and as a result Lucy was sent to the box. He was very upset at this development and as soon as dad left he began whispering obscenities in the baby’s (humanity’s) ear. He said dreadful things, but most people knew well enough to ignore him because he was just being a brat.

The archangels behaved only moderately better.

Michael’s reaction was along the lines of “Take it back!”

To which Lucifer replied, “Make me!”

“Okay, I will!”

“You can’t cuz I’m in here and you’re out there! Nah nah!”

Gabriel took off the first chance he got to get sugar wasted and laid and Raphael just went along with whatever Michael wanted.

So, it was no strange wonder with all the drama going on that a memo got lost along the way.

 

IV.

As spring cleaning drew closer it became apparent that something wasn’t right. One of the cherubs was complaining about not being able to find a mark. That of course was utterly ridiculous, but after checking the records nobody had logged in a “John Winchester” meeting the criteria. The angels drew straws to see who would be the one to tell Michael that they had not only misplaced his vessel’s blood line (something that most angels tended to do on a regular basis), but they had no idea who the righteous man was. They would have to go back through the files to see what went wrong and the apocalypse would have to be rescheduled, _again_. Michael was getting a little frustrated because it wasn’t the first time either. They were originally going to shoot for 1999, but the genealogy department said the vessels wouldn’t be ready until later and that was after numerous delays from the other departments as well.

In a hasty ill conceived plan, Michael gave the order to circumvent the problem. After a few tweaks they decided to move forward with the original agenda.

If everything went as planned, all hell would broke loose.

 

V.

Like most angels, Castiel had only been half listening to the argument between God and Lucifer. Although it was rude to eavesdrop on other's conversations, it was nearly impossible not to with how loud the two had been shouting at each other.

Although technically all the angels were the same age, some had more of an "older sibling vibe" than others. Castiel very much fit into the younger sibling category. He didn't really understand why, but also didn't really care. It was nothing personal, but unlike some of his older siblings Castiel wasn't curious about humanity's quirks. Except for the occasional compulsory glance in humanity's nursery, Castiel paid humans no mind. Castiel was a soldier and strategist. He obeyed Michael's orders to suppress Lucifer because the fallen angel was disobedient and disobedience wasn't tolerated.

Strategically he understood why Michael wanted to contain his conflict with Lucifer to the nursery. He understood Michael's motivations strategically, but not ethically. The humans called the nursery "Earth" because they were still too young to pronounce angelic words. Castiel found it rather ironic to call the planet a synonym for "dirt" when nearly 70% of it was covered in water. He found humanity's exaggerated innocence to be somewhat endearing and Casteil wondered off-handedly if that's how his "older siblings" viewed him.

Generally whenever Castiel approached one of his siblings for information they gave him one of those "special looks" that implied that Castiel was "special" and he could figure out by their tone that it wasn't the good kind of special. It annoyed him, but it wasn't important. Castiel was a soldier. He thought like a soldier and acted like a soldier. He was loyal and obedient up until the point he remembered the argument between Lucifer and God.

Castiel had been standing among the ranks ready to wage war against Lucifer and the denizens of hell and possibly wipe out humanity in the process and not to mention completely trash the nursery.

Just as Michael what about to give the order, Castiel thought about how he actually liked the nursery and nature and all the splendor of his father's creations. He remembered how his father had told them that humanity was special, the good kind of special.

"No," Castiel said quietly, but loud enough to stop everyone in their tracks. He looked right at Michael and told him, "You’re not my father, Michael. You're just an angel."

 

VI.

Enough of the Heavenly host agreed that Michael was being just a little over zealous and unreasonable over a personal grudge.

After a few arguments, several thousands of casualties, and a portal to Purgatory later, Castiel threw Michael into the pit with Lucifer so the two of them could settle their petty sibling rivalry by themselves. As an afterthought Castiel picked a human at random, settling on a boy named Adam Millagan, to act as a referee. He made a note to tell his secretary to remind him to check on the boy, but then realized he didn't have a secretary. Upon realizing this oversight Castiel got to work reorganizing Heaven to cover the jobs left open by casualties and to assign a secretary and in the process promptly forgetting to check on Adam.

Under Castiel's rule the Heavenly host was busier than ever to make up for the sudden drop in man power and therefore stayed out of trouble.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

"...Bullshit." Balthazar muttered as he read the official write up of the incident. "Who wrote this?"

"Does it matter?" Anael asked with a sigh. "The point is Castiel is in charge now."

"Yeah, we're all real proud of Cassie," Balthazar rolled his eyes. "It seems just like yesterday that he was a cute little fledgling and now he's the merciful dictator of Heaven, huzzah."

"Better to rein in Hell, as I always say." Crowley told them. "I should start charging you lot for using my conference room."

"Deal with it," Balthazar snapped. "This is the only place Cassie can't hear us. He thinks we're renegotiating the treaty, not staging a coup and I would like to keep it that way."

"Come on," Crowley clicked his tongue. "He's not that bad."

"Here's the proposed amendments to the treaty." Anael handed the contract to the reining king of hell.

Crowley's eyebrows shot up as he looked the list over. "That damn wanker!"

"Exactly," the two angels replied at the same time.

The king of hell rubbed his temples and groaned. "I suppose I have to take this seriously now. Who's idea what it to put the brat in charge anyway?"

"It was a joint decision," Anael admitted. "And it was supposed to be temporary."

"Except Cassie didn't want to put the pretty souls back once he swallowed them." Balthazar explained. "He spit some of them out when the Leviathans gave him indigestion, but the rest were absorbed."

"If they say, 'you are what you eat'," Crowley asked, "How come he's not very monster? or why didn't he just explode?"

"Technically, he did." Bathazar turned green at the memory. "He had to excuse himself. A gassy angel-turned-god is down right toxic *****. The humans will be very disappointed when they learn that earth is now the only planet with life."

Crowley snorted at that. "So now what?"

"Now we make a plan."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> _***** What Balthazar didn't know was that although Castiel had probably killed off all life on the macro level he accidentally spawned several microuniverses. If anyone had bothered to check into Heaven's Library they would be able to find a footnote about a Chinese translation of a Sanskrit text explaining how the universe came to be. The accepted version was that Brahman (aka "God") intentionally created the world. Mentioned in the footnote, however, there is a second, less accepted theory that creation was an "accidental outpouring" of "Brahman's essence" or "divine wind".  _
> 
> * * *
> 
>  


	2. Then Dean Met Cas

Muttering obscenities about paper jams and damn lazy interns, Dean Smith refilled the paper tray to the industrial sized printer in copy room. After the monstrous machine roared back to life, Dean stepped back and looked at the ink stain that polluted his perfectly crisp white sleeve in disgust. Dean was convinced that world peace would have been obtained years ago if people would just do their damn jobs. Dean hadn’t gotten to where he was today by carelessly forgetting to refill paper trays.

Dean enjoyed what his father called a “moderate success” which made him miles more successful than his father. One of the perks of being a white collar worker in the city was Dean was too far away and too busy to visit his dad. At most they exchanged Christmas cards and birthday phone calls. Make no mistake, Dean loved his father. John Smith was a former marine and a man’s man if ever there was one.

The Smiths had a long standing tradition of enjoying the apple pie, white picket fence, beautiful wife and model career kind of life. Henry Smith, Dean’s grandfather, talked about it like it was just yesterday (and with his dementia getting worse and worse it might as well had been yesterday). Dean's grandfather went to a dance one night, a real dance with live music that people dressed up for, and when he came home, he told his father he had found the girl he was going to marry. True to his word Dean’s grandparents were together for over sixty years.

John never found that special woman. He split up with Dean’s mom shortly after Dean was born and kept on searching. Dean had a faint suspicion after he turned 31 that he would be in the same boat as his father.  Lisa had been his longest relationship. She was smart, pretty, and Dean had gotten along great with her son, Ben. Plus since Lisa was a yoga instructor, the bedroom had not the source of their relationship woes.

Apparently Dean hadn’t been “present enough”, whatever in hell that meant. Dean had a kind of restlessness about him that he hadn’t even been aware of himself, but Lisa certainly picked up on it. Rather than live with the constant worry that one day Dean’s itch would get the better of him, Lisa broke up with him first.

It had been over a month since they split up, but the sting was still there. Dean figured God was sending him a sign that stuff like true love and all that bull had simply gone out of style like VHS and Paul McCartney. Dean didn’t have time for fairy tales.

A disgruntled buzz in his shirt pocket told Dean his boss wanted to see him meaning his day was not going to get any better. He whipped out his smart phone just to double check and scolding himself for ever doubting his instincts. He had five minutes.

“Shit.”

* * *

 

“I refuse,” Death told them as he nibbled on the fried pickles they had brought as an offering.

“What? Why?!” Hester demanded. Balthazar hushed her so as not to insult their guest and draw unwanted, all-seeing eyes to the conference room.

Gabriel snorted.

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” he mocked.

 Mocking was all the archangel really could do while trapped the circle of burning holy oil. Gabriel was a prankster, not stupid. When the rebels had come to him to lead their movement, call the angels together to take back Heaven from the cold and calculating hands of Castiel, he had out right refused just like Death was about to. 

“You are all idiots,” Death informed them. “So someone is acting out of turn. Your first instinct is to kill them, brother or no. Did it ever cross your mind to find an alternative solution? I can answer that for you. No you didn’t. You lot are incapable of thinking for yourselves and because of that you deserve to be at Castiel’s mercy.”

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to go!” Ion argued. “It’s not part of the plan! It was never part of the plan! Father is going to be upset when he gets home.”

“So you act out of fear for your wrathful and might I add, _absent_ , father?” Death asked unimpressed. “Bear in mind that it is your kill-all-traitors policy that got you into this mess. Call me when you need a last resort.”

“Technically this is all because Lucifer wasn’t killed to begin with.” Someone muttered.

They hushed immediately when Death looked their way.

“Then I’ll leave you to follow your father’s example.” Death said as the last word.

 

* * *

“This is a stupid plan,” Inias muttered.

“Deal with it,” Balthazar hissed back. They both stood up a little straighter when the humans entered the room. Inias maintained a gruff and serious demeanor while Balthazar put on a wide friendly grin.

“Gentlemen,” Boring human number one introduced, “This is one of our sales directors, Dean.”

Balthazar studied boring human number two carefully. He accepted the human’s handshake and introduced himself by a phony title of some made up company that instantly became completely plausible because of their angel powers. He looked Dean up and down then nodded. He would do.

Balthazar told him, “I really can’t thank you enough for your help. It’ll really make my cousin’s birthday very special.”

“Excuse me?” Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced over at his boss with a silent question, _what did you just whore me out for?_

“My younger cousin had the great fortune of suddenly inheriting the family company,” Balthazar explained. “And when I say we’re a family company, I mean we’re all related to each other one way or another.” He chuckled. “He’s practically a brother to me. Anyway, you can imagine the drama that goes along with that. There’s been one mismanagement after another, not flash our dirty laundry or anything, and it’s a rather delicate time for the company. But it’s stable thanks Cassie’s hard work.”

Dean nodded and masked his unease. He raised an eyebrow. “Cassie?” he asked.

“Family privileged nickname,” Balthazar winked. “We’re in town on important business and Castiel’s birthday is this Thursday. Getting him to take a day off is harder than averting the apocalypse, if you catch my drift.”

Dean thought the euphemism was strange, but was starting to get the grasp of things. He looked at his boss who was grinning madly at him.

“Although birthdays and holidays should be a family affair,” Balthazar continued. “We were hoping a fresh new face would be able to keep his mind off things for an evening. A friendly affair that wouldn’t have and scandalous repercussions.” He emphasized the last part.

No sluts or strippers then, Dean shot one final glare in his boss’s direction. He couldn’t believe he was being sent on a babysitting gig and probably one that he wouldn’t be getting overtime for.

“I’m more than willing to give Dean a four day weekend to show your brother around,” his boss said pleasantly. “If you could put in a good word…?”

Balthazar smirked. “Consider it done.”

They exchanged numbers and set up a meeting time and place. Then the two angels stepped out of the room and out of sight before they flew off. Both were pleased to have completed the first step in their plans.

Dean groaned.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Smith.” His boss scolded. “I know for a fact that you don’t have any solid plans for the weekend. This will really help the company if you make nice with them.”

“Right,” Dean relented. “I just have to show the guy a good, clean time, right?”

“I knew I could count on you.”

* * *

 

Thursday arrived. Dean was expecting to be escorting a trust fund twink or something, but Castiel looked to be about his same age or a little older. He had a bored expression on his face like his mind was elsewhere. Something else Dean couldn’t help but notice was how nervous the guy's own family members seemed to be around him. They glanced at him anxiously like he could smite them with a look if he wanted to. They kept their parting words brief and in quiet hushes.

Dean recognized the two men who he met in his boss's office. Along with them were two women, a blonde and a red head, discussing something that seemed to displease Castiel. He nodded his permission for something and dismissed them. With the weird atmosphere Dean didn’t feel the need to call “no homo” when he opened the passenger door of his car for his unusual guest. He just took a deep breath and hoped make it though the evening.

 

Dean wasn’t sure he would make it though the evening. At every touristy thing he brought Castiel to- and seriously, what was up with their weird family names? Castiel? Balthazar? Did their parents hate them or something? Dean couldn’t peg a good time to ask. At every tourist trap Castiel showed only a mild interest. He actually seemed more interest in the crowds of people than the land mark they were visiting. The whole thing made Dean feel awkward and strangely dissatisfied. Dean found himself counting down by the minute to his moment of freedom when he could drop Castiel back at his hotel and enjoy his four day weekend at home away from humanity enjoying a book. Dean wasn't the nerdy type, but he could only stomach so much humanity and with the amount of scotch he was going to break into that weekend, it was best if he stayed home.

As a last momentous effort to impress the guy, Dean finished off the night with a 7:00 PM reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Dean wasn’t even sure they had strung together enough words between the two of them to make a cohesive sentence, but here they were staring down a pair of the most expensive steaks in the city before Dean realized his mistake.

Neither of them touched reached for their forks and Dean caught himself looking anywhere but the weirdo he had been carting around all day. His stomach growled because the damn steaks looked fantastic, but he’d have to do a morning run every day for the next two weeks if he took so much as a bite. He had just finished another cleansing program (because the term "diet" was inaccurate and too feminine). That thought alone helped keep his appetite in check and as far as he knew, Castiel hadn’t eaten anything that day either.

“You don’t like steak?” Dean asked cautiously.

“I would ask the same of you,” Castiel replied in a shockingly deep voice that sounded rough and unused.

Dean’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to take the meal to go,” Castiel said. “You don’t have to force yourself to keep me company. I do have matters I need to attend to.”

Dean let out a huff of air. “No, I’m a man of my word. You’re not supposed to be thinking about work or family today.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, the first honest expression Dean had see on his face.

“Do you know what my job is?” Castiel asked.

“I get that you’re the big boss, but even bosses deserve a break.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Heck isn’t that supposed to be one of the perks if you’re large and in charge?”

“That doesn’t mean I should inflict misery on others for my own entertainment,” Castiel replied while playing with the folded napkin on the table. "That's something my rivals are more inclined to do."

“You didn’t have fun today I guess,” Dean’s ego kept him from admitting it until now. He had completely and utterly failed his mission.

Castiel tilted his head. “Did you have fun today? I was under the impression that the places we visited weren’t to your liking.”

“But today wasn’t about me-“ Dean started.

“Of course, everything is about me.” Castiel said in a way that shockingly didn’t sound egotistical. He had said it almost remorsefully. “But can you honestly expect me to enjoy myself or your company if your heart wasn’t in it?”

Dean was rather shocked by this development and Castiel stood up.

“I don’t wish to keep you from enjoying the rest of your evening.” Castiel said. “We can part ways here.”

Dean felt a twinge of discomfort in his chest. Guilt, he realized. It was the guy’s birthday and the only thing worse than spending it with a total stranger who wanted nothing to do with him was apparently spending it with his family who looked at him like some kind of evil dictator rather than a human being. Dean had had some pretty rough birthdays that he’d prefer to forget, but this certainly took the cake.

“Wait,” Dean stopped him before Castiel could leave. “You really mean that?”

Castiel looked at him confused for a minute, but then nodded.

“We still have an hour before I’m supposed to drop you off.” Dean pointed out while not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth.

“Tell me Dean,” Castiel asked. “What do _you_ do for ‘fun’ around here?”

Castiel made air quotes with his fingers at the word “fun” and had such a serious expression that Dean just lost it. He doubled over in laughter for once not caring what he looked like or what kind of scene he was making. They left their steaks sitting on the table ****** and changed locations. Dean drove Castiel to a honky tonk bar with the best cheese burger Dean had ever had in his life. Castiel took a hesitant bite before his eyes lit up like he was having a religious experience.

Castiel kept asking questions about Dean and about humanity in general like he really didn't know what to make of it. Dean got the impression that Castiel was oddly sheltered. Occasionally Dean's answers would make Castiel's face scrunch up in confusion making Dean chuckle again. Dean had laughed more in the passed half hour than he had in years. They stuck out in their fancy suits, but neither seemed to care. It wasn't long before both their plates had been cleaned. Dean pulled of his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He felt oddly disappointed that they were about to part ways probably never to bump into each other again since Castiel didn’t live in the city. Dean had missed out on an opportunity to get to know the weird, nerdy dude.

All Dean knew was Castiel was the most serious workaholic he had ever met. The guy didn't have any knowledge to any pop culture references. Castiel had no taste in music, meaning he didn’t favor one style over another. Most importantly Castiel’s older brothers were total fucktards who had been so “corrupted by the politics of fear and anger", in Castiel’s words, that they almost destroyed everything Castiel’s father had built up. Dean assumed Castiel meant the family company, but the guy’s voice when he talked about almost implied that it meant something much more. He had this sad expression on his face when he looked at the world like he was actually _looking_ at the world in all it crevices and spaces and at its flaws and treasures. Then he would turn that all-knowing gaze at Dean like he could see right though to Dean’s very core. It both thrilled him and terrified him. It meant Dean couldn’t hide anything, but at the same time it made him feel relieved because it meant he didn’t have to say anything that Castiel didn't already know.

“Um, hey,” Dean asked when they pulled out into the street. This time the minutes were counting down like the timer on a bomb and Dean wasn’t ready for Castiel to leave yet, not before he finished his job. Castiel had enjoyed the burgers well enough, but there was so much more Dean could show him.

Dean took a steadying breath, “I don’t have to be back at work until Monday.” He played it off as a joke by adding, “And you seriously need a vacation or something.”

Castiel was looking at Dean with that all knowing gaze again.

“Whatever you want Dean. I’ll go along with whatever you want to do.”

“Well, shit. That’s a lot of power, Cas.” Dean let the moniker slip out before he could catch himself. “Are you sure about that? Anything I want?”

“Yes.”

Dean thought about it for a minute.

“Well, I have a few ideas…” Dean grinned and turned around to go the opposite direction away from Castiel’s hotel. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> _**** **A busboy later pilfered the untouched steaks and took them home to reheat and serve to his wife for their anniversary delaying their inevitable divorce by six years. The cows, named Janis and Blue Bonnet, whom the stakes were made from were very upset when they heard about it from a gossip loving cherub.**** _
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> Special note:  
> My tastes in Fairy stories lean very much towards the celtic oral traditions. I also own a copy of both Grimm and HCA. I spent a summer reading modern fairy tales and short stories. My favorites were a little...well, I only promise that there will be no major character death in this story. The "Year's Best Fantasy" vol 5 is still my favorite, highly recommended if folks want to check it out.  
> The cover looks like this: http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51j7Ql16KIL.jpg
> 
> Check out your local library (or Amazon has them for like a penny and you just pay shipping) for "Year's Best" and they have SciFi, Fantasy, horror, and short stories and quick reads. I just have a pen an paper handy to make lists of things I liked and better yet didn't like style wise. Freaking hated the one creative writing class I took. This method was so much more enjoyable. I just spent one summer reading every short fantasy/modern fairy tale I could get my hands on and those stories stuck with me.


	3. Evil Plans in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who left kudos! I appreciate it!

“Well then,” Crowley folded his hands in front of him on the wide oval conference table.

The rectangular stone room was dimly lit by sparse torches hung on human skulls and the pillars were black and oozed with moisture. In Crowley’s mind the place had always been a little stuffy. He would have to work on that. The macabre décor served to intimidate humans, but the angelic guests didn’t care one way or the other.

Crowley examined the faces of the angels, or their vessels at least, with an attentive eye. He said, “We’re all gathered here to discuss a little problem I like to call, ‘Godstiel’.”

“Clever,” Balthazar drawled sarcastically. “Now are you sure he can’t hear us down here?”

Crowley gave him a look and unfolded his hands in an exasperated shrug. “Did you even bother doing the reading before you came, mate?” he asked. “Lucifer, who loved God the most, defied God and was sent to the only place where God’s voice couldn’t reach as punishment. Ergo, hell.”

Crowley waved a hand to draw their attention to the unholy pit around them.

“But there’s no guarantee that our voices can’t be heard from the outside.” Anael counted.

“Then I suggest you talk quickly while your distraction holds out.” Crowley hissed in reply. This was met with a nod of agreement at least.

“Alright,” The king of hell leaned back in his chair. “As much as I have to thank Cas- er, Godstiel for my well deserved promotion, our mutually beneficial relationship is no longer as such. It is my understanding that you lot, his _loving_ family, all agree after a fashion.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hester admitted. “Castiel hasn’t lived up to our expectations.”

“Well, darling I’m not sure there’s anybody who could live up to your expectations,” Crowley sneered. “I just want to be clear that I have no problem with heaven having a regime change every ten minutes because you lot can’t agree on what to do with yourselves other than sacrifice a few lambs and start an apocalypse. I’m willing to help you, but I like things as they are so apocalypse is off the table for another thousand years at least. We good?”

The angels contemplated this and nodded. Some agreed more quickly than others. The king of hell continued talking.

“So problem numeral uno is Cassie is a bleeding heart. It’s all about what the humans want, which frankly I think is like asking the dinosaurs," Crowley switched to a mocking falsetto, "‘ _excuse me, do you mind if I use your bones in a couple mill for petroleum? Thanks, mate._ ”*** He looked around the table. “So far we’ve been dividing the souls eighty percent and twenty percent. I get it, you’ve got a bigger operation to run and the older models aren’t as energy efficient, but Castiel wants to give people a get-out-hell-free card if they sell their souls ‘cause mummy got cancer.” He sneered. “I have a business to run and I refuse to submit to these bullying tactics.”

“We understand, Crowley,” Hester interrupted. “We also feel that the needs of heaven haven’t been met. We’ll agree to shift the soul division to seventy-five/twenty-five percent.”

Crowley raised his hands in surrender and leaned back.

“That’s all I ask.” He said. “So what’s this brilliant plan to dethrone God?”

“The longer we wait, the more difficult it’ll be.” Balthazar acknowledged. “We need to hit at Cassie’s weakness.”

“He doesn’t have a weakness,” Inias objected. “He’d destroy us before we got close. Strategy was always Castiel’s strong suit because nothing could distract him from the mission.”

“Then we need to give him a weakness,” Balthazar said. “We need to give him a reason to give up the souls. We need to find a way to distract him.”

“What would possibly do that?” Hester demanded.

A small, quiet cherub raised his hand. It was a tiny thing in the presence of his brothers. Like most of his tier, the cupid preferred not to wear ornaments or clothing of any kind. He wasn’t new to his craft, but had somehow retained a sense of innocence despite many years stitching together whole destinies in the form of physical attraction.  

“I have a suggestion,” he said and tired not to quiver as many eyes turned to him. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, brothers, but instead of Death you should have come to us. Castiel as powerful as he may be is still of the world, ephemeral in the eyes of our father.”

“As an angel he may have been subject to the laws of heaven and at the mercy of angel blades and arrows,” Anael contested. “But there is no proof that he is not impervious to your arrows.”

“Ah,” the cherub smiled. “It is our father’s sense of humor that dictates it to be so. We, the smallest and weakest of the host, possess the strongest weapon. The only one who was immune was our father because the arrows are an extension of the great love he has for all his children. It would be like throwing a water balloon at the ocean.”

“I see,” Balthazar raised both his eyebrows in realization. “Then by that logic, Cassie is the perfect target. He’s so clueless about love he wouldn’t know what hit him.”

“Be warned, brothers,” the cherub added. “Love is a fragile weakness. I detest the idea of using it as a weapon, but…”

“No, thank you brother,” Inias jumped in. “We can use this.”

“Indeed,” Crowley agreed. “Now we can plan.”

* * *

 

“Did you have a good weekend, Mr. Smith?” Sam Wesson asked politely as he fiddled with the wires to the office internet connection.

The system should have been upgraded over the weekend, but no project ever went down without a few bugs. Sam was just a low level tech-geek, but he got along with Dean alright. During office hours they stayed professional, but they had grabbed a beer together once or twice when Dean had ended up working late on a Friday. This past Friday Dean had skipped out because of his boss’s unusual request.

“It was interesting,” Dean said and paced with an anxious step. His phone was in his hand so he could still respond to emails, but he would have to wait for Sam to finish before he could get some serious work done.

“You were dealing with that CEO guy, Chris-something?” Sam pressed. He was only half interested. The rest of his attention was focused on the tiny crawl space under the office desk.

“Castiel,” Dean corrected absently. “His whole family is super religious so all kids were named after angels.”

He tossed his cell phone up in the air and caught it with practiced ease. Dean’s eyes drifted to an uninteresting corner of the room as his mind floated back through the haze of alcohol and music. His temple throbbed irritably to stuff down a warm feeling that rose up in unfamiliar territory. Dean had caught himself basking in the warmth that morning like a waking dream until the shriek of his alarm warned him that reality had ensued. He had downed a too hot cup of coffee and dismissed the strange feeling as simply being well rested from the extended weekend and rationalized the warmth as the coffee warming him from the inside.

Dean caught Sam staring at him awkwardly.

“What?” he asked tersely in response to the tech’s gaze.

“That’s it?” Sam fished knowing full well that Dean was skirting on the details.

“There was booze, dancing, and chicks.” Dean said blandly before adding, “I think.”

“You ‘ _think_?”

“Well, there was booze,” Dean said simply. “It gets a little fuzzy after that.”

Sam snorted knowing Dean was pretty much a light weight thanks to all his cleansing regimes and special diets he tried on a weekly basis. Their Friday night ritual usually ended at three beers and a plate of food before Dean had to call it quits. Sam mentally called it a “ritual” but it had happened no more than a few times. Dean was very contentious about watching his calorie intake. Sam was surprised to hear that he had let himself go for an evening. He probably spent all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday working out to make up for it.

“And don’t get me started on Friday night,” Dean chuckled to himself.

Sam paused in the middle of his work. “Wait, you saw him again?”

“Nah, we were both totally smashed so we just caught a cab to my place. He couldn’t even remember the name of his hotel, but he was in better shape the next morning than I was.” Dean shifted to sit on the edge of his desk. “The guy had this magic hangover cure, too. We slept off the booze for a few hours and woke up feeling fine.”

“So, what, you hung out with him all day Friday?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I had anything else to do. Besides, one night’s not enough to hit all the dives in town,” he said repeating the same line he told himself. “We just hopped a few bars. There’s this one hole in the wall that sells beer by the pitcher and you just drink it out of that. The décor was a little low-class and creepy, but the beer was good and cheap. Seriously, I wish I knew about some of these places as a student.”

“Huh.” Sam nodded. “That’s cool then. He had fun?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess. I know I had a blast.”

Sam ducked back under the desk and caught a glimpse of Dean’s hundred dollar dress shoes. “You didn’t tour around town in a suit, did you?”

Dean laughed. “No way. If you’re going to get trashed you have to look the part. We hit up a thrift store. I got this badass looking leather jacket. I swear I looked like a cowboy or something. Castiel just mussed up his suit and tie a little and threw on a Colombo jacket. I couldn’t tell if he looked like a 1930’s hobo or Constantine.”

“Constantine? You really are closet nerd.” Sam smiled as he switched the computer back on. The little icon buttons were all lined up where they needed to be. His work was done.

“Hey, comics are badass.” Dean pointed at him authoritatively. “Bruce Wayne is the shit. I wish I had enough money to fund my own R&D department with awesome toys.”

“Bruce Wayne is just the front,” Sam pointed out. “Batman _is_ his real identity.”

“Whatever,” Dean grinned. “Speaking of geeky stuff, would you believe the guy had never seen Star Wars?”

Sam looked at him in disbelief. “No way.”

“I know, right?” Dean smirked. “Swear to god, this guy has no life outside the family business. Obviously I had to enlighten him.”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “You know…”

Sam threw up his hands. “Wait, so let me get this straight. Your boss tells you to treat this guy to a night on the town, which you do, and then after that you go for drinks and whatnot afterwards.”

“Yeah.” Dean confirmed.

“Then you let him spend the night at your place?” Sam asked.

“It’s not a big deal. I have the space.” Dean crossed his arms defensively.

“But then you go out and get smashed again.” Sam narrated. “How does a movie marathon play into this?”

“That happened all of Saturday,” Dean admitted. “Like I said, the guy had this amazing hangover cure-“

“Just so I have this right,” Sam held up his hand to cut Dean off. “You meet this guy Thursday night, let him stay over, go out again Friday night, have a movie marathon Saturday, and did you do anything Sunday?”

“No.” Dean said just a tad too quickly. Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean glared at him. “What? What happens on the weekend stays in the weekend, pictures or it didn’t happen, and blah blah.”

Sam gave him a pointed look.

“Listen,” Dean leaned back against the edge of his desk. “I built a nice rapport with the guy. His family is a bunch of dicks, he’s suck in a job he didn’t ask for but has to do anyway because nobody would step up to the plate, everyday he has to make decisions for the good of the company that nobody likes, and I just feel for the guy, you know? It’s lonely at the top. I felt like I was doing the guy a favor and I had a blast. Yeah, he’s practically a stranger and I did more stuff with him in four days than I do with my friends in a year, but for once I got to enjoy my weekend, not think about work, my dad, or shit that pecks at the back of my brain until I go nuts.”

Sam looked at him empathetically. “No, man I get it. I’m happy you had fun. You really should do that more. So are you two, like, friends now?”

Dean shook his head. “No, man. We didn’t exchange information or anything. It was a one time deal, but I think it did us both some good.” He chuckled. “You know, he called me ‘distracting’ and somehow it felt like the best compliment in the world coming from a guy who seemed to have a shit ton on his brain.”

“Cool.” Sam packed up his gear into a messenger bag. “We’ll call me if you have any problems, Mr. Smith.”

Dean waited a moment before saying, “Sure thing, Sammy.”

“It’s _Sam_ ,” Sam snapped irritably.

“And it’s just _Dean_.” Dean replied with a smirk.

Sam stopped and looked at him surprised. “You mean it?”

“Sure,” Dean replied. “You’re easy to talk to and I mean that in the most manly way possible.”

“Sure, okay,” Sam agreed. “And for a big shot, you’re pretty decent.”

“Second best compliment I’ve received in a week.”

* * *

 

Despite being a Monday, Dean’s good mood after talking with Sam carried over into the evening. The aftereffects of the weekend still buzzed under his skin like a mini-high so Dean decided to treat himself and get off at five like he was supposed to. Everything else could wait until Tuesday.

Instead of sitting down on the couch Dean changed out of his suit and into workout clothes. He wasn’t going to punish himself for his binging, but he was going to do at least thirty minutes on the treadmill. He turned on the TV to provide some background noise. The news was on. Everyday it was the same thing. Somebody getting shot and/or stabbed in an unsavory side of town followed by a teaser for a story meant to scare parents away from letting their children outside in the world in anything less than bubble wrap, there might be one or two pertinent world news stories that nobody cared about anyway, and then the weather (which didn’t matter because Dean worked inside most of the time) and lastly sports.

Dean set a medium-fast pace on the treadmill with a slight incline for a better burn. The steady fall of his feet slightly drowned out the buzz on the television. He was half tempted to play some music, but his collection mostly had easily listening. One of the clubs he and Castiel had hit held a 80s night every Friday.

Normally Dean found the screeching of electric guitars obnoxious, but now he was considering adding the tunes to his workout regime. He only had smooth jazz in his record collection and Dean wondered if it would be hypocritical of him to invest in some mullet rock after constantly nagging at Ben to keep turn his music down.

Maybe Ben had left behind a CD somewhere and Dean just had to unearth it. Lisa had always been after him to broaden his horizons as part of a cure for that “itch” she kept bringing up. Dean decided he would start out slow and pick a few upbeat tunes for his workouts.

Dean chuckled as he recalled a brief conversation he had with Castiel that made them shout over the club's in house rendition of "Obsession" by Animotion. Dean admitted that one of the reasons he didn't like rock music was because a lot of it was guys screaming at the top of their lungs. That wasn't singing. Castiel had countered the argument by saying it was a primal thing. Rock music allowed men to demonstrate their sexual prowess. When men heard the song they heard a challenge which made them instinctively feel empowered by the need to answer the challenge. It made them feel, and Castiel had done a quirky air quote thing when he said the word, "revved up". Castiel then shot a nervous glance around the room at some of the club's female clientele and commented that a lot of these women looked like the type who liked it when men screamed in bed. Dean nearly fell off his bar stool at that.

“…bring you now to Lady of Serenity where last Sunday what witnesses describe as a bizarre miracle occurred... A man in a tan trench coat…”

Dean nearly tripped when a news report broke his concentration. He stopped the machine and frantically scanned the living room for the TV remote before crossing the room and doing it the old fashion way. He tilted his head to find the volume buttons on the side of his widescreen.

“They guy looked like some kind of tax accountant,” a witness said into the reporter’s microphone. “The Reverend was doing his spiel about how all the gays are going to hell and shit when this guy pops out of nowhere. I didn’t seem him come through the door or anything-“

The story cut to the news anchor. “We have the actual footage from the church broadcast this Sunday. Our sources say that the footage is unaltered, but there is no other explanation of how the two men suddenly appear in the room.”

The film rolled to show a preacher pacing slowly in front of his Sunday flock saying, “…Plenty speak for them and their so-called life style. Media, Hollywood, Lady gaga won’t shut up for love or money.” The people in the pews interrupted with a low chuckle.  The preacher continued, “Yeah, funny, but that’s why we raise our voices and picket their so-called weddings and their funerals.” He paused and looked pointedly at his listeners. “Someone has to speak for God.”

Dean’s heart stopped when a deep voice growled in a low hush, “And who says you speak for God?”

The people in the pews turned to give a stink eye to the stranger standing in the isle of the church. As of Thursday, however, the man was not a stranger to Dean. Still dressed in the stupid Colombo getup from their weekend romp, Castiel took three slow steps forward towards the preacher.

“You're wrong,” Castiel told the man. “I’m utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.” He stopped when he reached the front row of pews and placed a gentle hand on the closest armrest. Castiel continued coldly, “On the other hand, I cannot abide hypocrites like you.” His voice dropped even deeper as he sarcastically added, “ _reverend_.”

The preacher took a half step in retreat with his hands up. “Okay, fun’s over-“

“Tell your flock where your own genitals have been before you speak for me,” Castiel interrupted.

The preacher turned bright red and started sputtering before he chocked out, “And who the heck are you?!”

Seeming to loose interest in tormenting the man, Castiel half turned and sidestepped the question.

“I shall not pass judgment on you.” Castiel told the preacher before turning his back on the man completely, “I’ll leave that to Gabriel.”

As Castiel spoke another figure appeared behind the preacher. The crowd gasped. Gabriel was shorter than the preacher, but his eyes twinkled mischievously in anticipation of playing with a new toy. He gripped the back of the preacher’s neck and lifted him a few inches of the ground. The human struggled comically against the stronger grip.

“I find a certain poetry in his methods that I’m sure you’ll learn to appreciate,” Castiel said calmly before pausing and adding, “or not.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Gabriel said with a wink before disappearing with the hapless preacher in tow.

Castiel turned his attention to the parish.

“I trusted you all to use your own judgment and not to take to heart such poisonous words.” He said sternly, “Do not fail me again. There seems to have been some confusion as the word passed down through the ages, jumping from one tongue to another. Like a game of telephone, is the metaphor you my wish to draw on. I will clarify the commandments for you in two phrases-“

He walked forward slowly again timing his steps to the commands falling from his mouth, “Love thy Lord with all your heart and Love thy neighbor like yourself. Have I not made myself clear?”

Lastly Castiel looked straight into the camera mounted above the door of the church. The camera had been installed to post videos of sermons on the internet. That was how the newscasters got a hold of it before police or authorities could confiscate it.

Dean stumbled backwards as the unearthly blue eyes seemed to gaze through time, space, the news broadcast to stare right through to Dean.

“…oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> _***Actually, when posed the question the dinosaurs didn't mind at all except for one exceptionally surly monoclonius._
> 
> * * *


	4. I Confess to Booze, Rock n’ roll…oh, and Sex

Gabriel blinked as the room shifted and the heat from the circle of holy fire no longer threatened to singe his wings. The archangel wondered how long it would take the rebels to realize he was missing. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. He had been summoned.

“Aren’t magic circles beneath you?” Gabriel asked. “Do you love Earth so much that you’ve taken to summoning us the mortal way, _Castiel_?”

He said the name mockingly. Taunting the reining king of heaven wasn’t wise. Lucifer and Michael were in the cage and the other archangels were dead meaning Gabriel was all that stood in Castiel’s way.

Or so he thought. Gabriel thought it was the lighting, but Castiel looked…pained.

“I need your help, brother.” Castiel said.

“Oh, so I’m still your brother?” Gabriel asked snidely. “Good, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to call you ‘daddy’. Why should I help you? Give me one good reason!”

“I sided with Earth out of loyalty to our father,” Castiel told him. “The humans are his creation and it is neither our place to destroy them nor corrupt them.”

“Stow the campaign crap, Cassie,” Gabriel snapped. “You’re already in office so just shove it.”

Castiel pushed forward and grappled his older brother less than gently. “But now I side with humans because I don’t have a choice! I am _wounded_ brother! Help me, please!”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose in disbelief until he watched Castiel produce an arrow. He yanked out the shaft from where it struck true, but the tip had already stuck it's mark.

“I am wounded,” Castiel pleaded again this time fearful and innocent.

Gabriel found himself staring at the biggest puppy eyes he had ever seen and felt his resolve crumble. He pulled his little brother into an angel hug and soothed his anxious limbs. “It’s okay, little bro. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“No,” Castiel sighed. He pulled back and rested his face in his vessel’s hands. The form had been specially crafted based off his true vessel’s appearance and modified to contain his immense power. Now the meat suit felt so small under the weight of his burdens, the least of which dealing with the consequences of being tricked. “It’s not going to be ok, Gabriel. I messed up.”

“You’re not, dad,” Gabriel pointed out. “Heck I’m not even sure _he_ was perfect.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel chastised.

“What? Just saying.” Gabriel scratched the back of his head. “So, it’s real then? The whole buh-dum, bomb-chika-wow-wow, take me now big-boy? Or were you the one who-“

“Gabriel!” Castiel barked a little more fiercely.

The archangel backed up and raised his palms. “Well at least the chuckle heads paired you up with a dude. Now we don’t have to worry about mini-Cassies running around. Wait, is he hot? Does he have any siblings?”

Castiel groaned. “I’m beginning to think you don’t understand the magnitude of how serious this is.”

“Oh, I’m being serious,” Gabriel told him. “It’s you who needs to lighten up. You’re approaching this the wrong way, baby bro. Trust me, it’s _not the end of the world_. We’ve gotten over that mess.”

Castiel squinted at him confused. “You’re not mad?”

The archangel huffed. “I was,” he admitted. “I mean I know Michael was a dick, but I hate it when we all fight, you know? It’s not what dad would have wanted. It doesn’t matter who takes over -me, you, a cherub- anybody is going to meet with some resistance. You know about the little pow-wow they had right?”

The angel-turned-god drooped. “Yeah.”

“Damn bro, you like a kicked puppy.” Gabriel snorted. “What are you going to do about it? Are you going to break out the big guns?”

“I’m _tired_ , Gabriel.” Castiel told him. “I thought as long as I could protect the earth.... It was our father’s favorite. Why can’t they just see that? It’s beautiful all on its own. It doesn’t _need_ us.”

Gabriel shrugged. “You’re asking big questions that I can’t answer for you, little bro. You’re the big cheese now. You have to provide answers, not ask for them.”

After five minutes of thinking Castiel only managed to muss up his hair a bit more making Gabriel chuckle.

“Sometimes it helps to step away and revisit a problem after a proper distraction.” Gabriel suggested. “Wanna get some icecream?”

“What would the consumption of frozen dairy accomplish?” Castiel inquired confused.

* * *

 

To say that Dean was freaking out was an understatement.

God, he went on a weekend bender with God.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Sunday school had been somewhat unreliable, but he was too scared to pick up a bible and double check his common knowledge against the source. Dean couldn’t exactly call in sick to work because he had been down right cheery Monday morning. His boss would call him in for a drug screening if he did that. Dean showed up at the office on time and greeted everyone with an award winning smile on the way, but promptly locked his office door to suffer though his BGF (big god freakout) in privacy.

Right before lunch Dean picked up the phone and dialed.

“Wesson.”

“You don’t sound sick,” Dean drawled. He could practically hear Sam go pale at the sound of his voice. When Dean had called IT earlier they said Sam was out.

“Ah,” Sam’s voice fell. “Family gathering.”****

“Does it have anything to do with the news report yesterday?”

“No,” Sam lied.

“Sam.”

The tech sighed. “I can’t talk about it Dean.”

“I thought we were friends, dude.”

“Officially as of yesterday! What do you need?”

“A friend that I didn’t buy or go to school with.” Dean leaned back in his office chair making the thing squeak in protest. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was now or never. “Or did the mattress mambo with last weekend.”

There was a pause on the other line.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Sam asked far too calmly. “Did you just say ‘mattress mambo’ with a straight face?”

“That’s what I need to talk to somebody about.” Dean groaned. “It’s complicated.”

“You’re asking me for relationship advice? Wait, last weekend? That’s the dude right?” Sam asked with a touch of excitement. “So this mean’s you're bi right? Do you need help coming out? Is your dad going to freak or something? You know the company can’t fire you for liking guys, right?”

“The problem is the guy is a bit of a celebrity,” Dean said hesitantly. “As in had his face flashed across the six o’clock news last night. Tall, dark, and wearing a trench coat.”

“Holy shit!" Sam shouted through the phone making Dean flinch. "Oh my fucking-“

“Yeah.” Dean muttered. "That about sums it up."

* * *

 

“Could you pass me the mint chocolate chip there, reverend?” Gabriel asked politely and pointed. The mortal complied with a trembling hand. “Thanks man.”

The archangel was sitting on a plush couch in an extravagant room that looked like it had been cut out of a mansion. The reverend had tried to make a dash for it, but found the doors only lead back into the room. The reverend had been creeped out seeing his back as he stood in two doorways at once. After some gentle coaxing the preacher was seated next to Gabriel watching the two celestial beings consume copious amounts of Ben & Jerry’s.

Castiel was seated on a bright scarlet reading chair looking absolutely miserable. He had no opinion on the flavors and accepted whatever Gabriel put in his hands taking a bite every few seconds. After he finished a tub Gabriel would hand him another one and Castiel would repeat the motions.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel set the empty ice cream container down on the coffee table between them. His eyes were squintily trained on the television. Somehow Gabriel had convinced him that 20 gallons of ice cream and America’s Next Top Model reruns were a good combination. “None of their outfits are practical for everyday use.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s _fashion_ , bro. It’s not supposed to make sense. Not everybody can just throw on a flasher-coat and call it good.”

“Do you think I should call him?” Castiel asked anxiously.

“Are you going to use a burning bush or a family plan?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

Castiel rubbed his hands together. “Maybe you could…”

The archangel raised his hand to cut his brother off. “No, not happening. This herald is finishing another tub of rocky road and you, Mr. Holy-Holy-Holy, have 36 more flavors to get though.”

The reverend gave an indignity squeak. “How can you be _angels_?!”

“How can you be human?” Gabriel shot back. “Show a little respect, mortal. My little brother’s going through his first big-boy relationship. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t give him advice he’s going to ignore anyway?”

“I’m not ignoring you, Gabriel.” Castiel promised hurriedly and picked up a pint labeled ‘Hazed & Confused’. Gabriel smirked at the pun. Castiel assured him, “I appreciate this.”

“Then listen good, little bro.” Gabriel pointed his spoon at the love-sick deity. “Wait for _him_ to call you otherwise you’ll have a creepy stalker rep to match that coat.”

“Okay.” Castiel answered meekly.

* * *

 

Dean Smith held on to his Starbucks cup like a lifeline while absorbing the comforting heat into his hands. Sam raised his own cup to his lips and tentatively sipped on the hot beverage. An awkward silence settled between them. Finally Sam gave in and set his cup down on the table. 

"This is the worst plot for a rom-com I've ever heard." 

Dean glared at him. "This isn't funny, man! This is my life! I fu-" Taking stock of where they were at and the frightening number of people who could hear him if he shouted, Dean lowered to a whisper. "I had _relations_ with a- ah..."

"But is this guy really him?" Sam countered. "The big guy? Something weird is going on. I thought you said he was a CEO."

"Maybe he's filling in?" Dean guessed and tried to recall everything Castiel had said about his work. It was a hard thing to do with their level of intoxication at the time.

"I didn't know gods could get drunk." 

Dean snorted. "The guy wasn't a lightweight, I can tell you that." 

"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked and took another chug of coffee.

"What do you mean?"

Sam shrugged. "I mean you said it yourself. It was a one time thing, right?"

"Y-yeah."

"Do you want it to be?" Sam leaned forward to better gauge his companion's reaction. "Subtracting everything we learned Monday, if you had bumped into the dude again at a bar or the grocery-store-"

"Grocery store? Really, Sam?" Dean interrupted.  

"Look, I'm just asking if you really liked the guy or he was just a thrill." 

Dean leaned back and contemplated the idea.

"Thrill." Dean answered. "I don't believe in all that emo-crap. My life is not chick-flick material."

"Okay," Sam pressed on gently. "And if you saw him again?"

"I'd ask how he was doing, you know?" Dean frowned. "I mean, he practically gave me his life story. I'd want to find out how he was doing."

"So do that." Sam brightened. "See if you click or whatever."

"Sam!" Dean protested. "I'm not going to date him. He's not just a dude, he's- he's-!"

"Alright, alright," Sam held up his hands. "Don't see him again. It's your call."

"Even if I did, I don't exactly have his number," Dean pointed out fully convinced to leave the weekend in the past.

Sam gave him a look. 

"What?" Dean asked irritably.

Sam shook his head. "Dude, he's God right? Wouldn't you just pray to him?"

It wasn't wise on Dean's part to take a sip of his coffee just then. He choked at the idea of praying to a guy he had... "Okay, that is a whole new level of weird. That's way beyond safeword kinky. That's just... I don't even know."

Sam shrugged. "It must be the romantic in me then."

Dean pointed a finger at him and opened his mouth to speak. Sam responded by holding his hands up in resignation. 

"I know, I know," Sam said. "Not a chick flick."

"Exactly." Dean replied closing off the conversation completely.

* * *

Wednesday came and Dean threw himself into his work. To be fair, he did have most Tuesday to make up for and a little bit of Monday. Dean couldn't believe how fast his week had turned around. He felt high as a kite before this whole Godstiel, or whatever, mess. He didn't need divine intervention to make hump day any worse. Dean knew he was in a bad way when financial reports were a dream come true. Anything was a blessing as long as it kept his mind preoccupied and away from last Sunday morning. Most people after a one night fling either leave before dawn or part amicably over breakfast. What kind of psycho up and kidnaps a preacher?

Part of the problem was Dean hadn't heard a peep from Cas.

Nothing. Complete radio silence. All's quiet on the western front. Natta. 

It made sense, actually. Dean had only been obligated to entertain Castiel for one night. It was supposed to be Castiel's one night off. Dean was just supposed to show him the sights and move on with life. It had been Dean's idea to do more. Nobody held Dean at gun point and ordered him to drag Cas to every bar within walking distance from a trolley not once, but twice. 

And how was it possible that God had never seen Star Wars? That was just plain sacrilegious. 

Sam was right too. Somethings just didn't add up. When the numbers on the financial forms started blurring together Dean opened a new tab in his web browser and did what he should have done way sooner. He typed in "Castiel" in the search bar. 

"Okay, I don't think he has anything to do with Switzerland." Dean muttered and continued to read. "Angel of Solitude and Tears... and temperance my ah... Okay I can kinda see that one... ' preside over the deaths of kings'." Dean grumbled stretched in his office chair. "Geeze, no wonder the guy was so cheerful," he muttered sarcastically. 

Dean moved his curser to close the web browser and paused. He wondered what it would be like to watch over the Earth like that without interfering. Angel of solitude and tears, what the hell does that mean? Dean's chest clenched. Disregarding the whole stalker angle, he pictured Castiel watching over the lonely human souls. Did that mean every time there was a child crying alone in neglect Castiel was just supposed to stand by and observe? Did he see every old man kneeling in tears at the grave of his freshly buried mate? Dean couldn't imagine what it must be like to oversee the pain of humanity that sex, drugs, and booze couldn't bury century after century. No wonder the guy needed a vacation.

As he drove home in rush hour traffic Dean's eyebrows didn't knit together like they normally would. Through the windows of cars moving a quarter of the speed limit, all packed together in their cars, Dean stared at the obscured faces of his fellow humans. He studied their faces trying to read beyond what his eyes could see. Dean imagined what troubles accompanied their scowls beyond the usual irritation that accompanied traffic. He wondered it would be like to actually know and Dean was glad he didn't. Dean considered himself a good man. If somebody was in need, he did his best to help. He gave a large chunk of his pay to charity like the Salvation Army and it wasn't just for the tax benefits. If Dean woke up one morning with god-like powers he'd probably get to work to meticulous fix the world, but if Castiel's complaints were valid then his siblings didn't have the same view of humanity. 

"Is that what happened, Cas?" Dean murmured. "Did you just get sick of it all? Are you really in humanity's corner or is this some kind of sick trip for you?"

Dean locked the deadbolt on his apartment and left his keys in a place he'd forget by morning. He didn't want dinner and he wasn't even going to bother trying to talk himself into working out. Instead he plopped down on his couch accidentally knocking off the throw pillows Lisa had picked out. His thoughts from earlier were stuck on repeat in his head.

Dean shook himself back to awareness when it was too dark to see the numbers on the clock in the living room. He sat up stiffly and got ready for bed. His brain was exhausted, but he turned on the late night news to see if there had been anymore God sightings. Hundreds of people claim they saw the trench coat deity, but none of the sightings seemed legit. Religious fanatics were flipping out. Other preachers like the one who had been kidnapped were keeping a low profile and trying to make amends. Dean snorted as the news tried to interview a known anti-gay politician without much luck. 

He shut the television off once the weather came on. In the darkness of his apartment Dean just laid there staring at the ceiling. He glanced at his alarm clock a few times. 2:40 flashed, then 3:15 and 4:32. At 5:45 Dean reached over and turned off his alarm. He's ask for the day off, but he didn't have anything better to do. Dean didn't have any hobbies. His friends all feigned enjoyment from their merciless employment nine to five like Dean did. Ambition was the only thing Dean had in common with his schoolmates. There was Sam, but he would just side with whatever made Dean happy and Dean didn't know what would make him happy.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed as he threw off his bed covers and sat on the edge with his eyes closed. "Alright, Castiel. You better have your ears on because this prayer shit is really not my thing."

Dean cracked open his eyelids. He was alone in the room. With a huff Dean got up and threw on a bathrobe. No matter what, he needed coffee. Preferably Irish at this rate. 

"Hello, Dean," a gravely voice greeted from the couch.

"Jesus!" Dean yelped as he jumped.

"No," Cas turned his head to look up at Dean. "It's Castiel."

Dean stared at him stupidly until he caught the slight twitch of Castiel's mouth like an aborted smirk.

"Did you just make a joke, you fucker?" Dean raised an eyebrow trying to keep his own amusement in check.

Castiel smiled awkwardly. "I have been studying. There is much that I don't know about humans." He looked down and clasped his hands together. "It's why I accepted my subordinate's suggestion. I apologize if I... gave you the wrong impression."

Dean crossed his arms. "Buddy, you've got a lot of explaining to do. Namely does this _thing_ ," he pointed between himself and Cas,"have anything to do with your superpowers and shit? I don't mind you using me as a study buddy, but you start messing with my head and I'm going to be pissed."

"If you are referring to the sexual attraction between us, I have nothing to do with that." Castiel said.

"But?" Dean pressed sensing there was more the ex-angel needed to add. 

"But a select few of my siblings are moving against me." Castiel explained the situation before adding, "I came to apologize for the inconvenience. They will be punished for their games."

Dean felt a tightness in his chest when Castiel stood up. 

"That's it?" the human asked.

"Is what it?" Castiel asked.

"You're telling me we got shot up with love juice and now you're taking off?" Dean asked. "Isn't there an antidote or something?"

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel shook his head. "The cherubs are expert marksmen. There was never any need for an 'antidote' because they always hit their intended target."

"Shit!" Dean rubbed his aching head. "That's not cool man!"

Castiel sighed. "I know. It's not fair to you, but for what it's worth..." Dean's head shot up as Castiel moved to stand in front of him.  "I'm glad it was you," Castiel confessed and gently reached to touch Dean's cheek. "You have a beautiful soul, Dean. You're a righteous man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  __  
>  ******** "Family gathering" was the Wesson family's code for a "haunting at a farm with very sharp objects and vengeful cattle"  
> 
> 
> * * *


	5. The Song Remains the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains my brief love letter to Rock n’ Roll. Also, this was grammar checked at 2 freaking AM. There might be some errors left over.

The cherub aimed his bow. It was a special weapon of heaven and actually not very bow-like at all. It was a weapon that couldn’t be wielded unless its user’s heart was pure. It couldn’t be wielded in anger, hate or fear. The cherub loved his father and let his father’s love flow through him. The cherub loved his brothers. He did not see need for battle. The cherub loved Castiel. He saw a bright light filled with passion. Castiel’s role as an angel was not an easy one. It was a shock that Castiel rebelled against Michael. The cherub knew that if he had been charged with overseeing humanity’s tearful solitude, he would have gone mad. He would have readily called forth the end to humanity’s torment. He would have let the world end.

Castiel had not. The cherub admired his brother’s courage to side with humans. The cherub was only familiar with the beauty of love, humanity’s greatest gift bestowed upon them by their father. He considered their looks, their habits, their anger, their sorrow, and everything else inferior to love. Castiel saw in humans something more. Perhaps there was a quality humans possessed that could only be witnessed in their darkest hours. For whatever reason, Castiel favored humans over the angels.

The cherub had to take a moment to push down his jealousy. It would make for a poor shot if he was worked up. He wouldn’t miss. Cherubs never missed. If he wasn’t in the right state of mind the bow wouldn’t even fire.

He steadied himself. Castiel was sitting with the boring human in the human’s dwelling. The two were watching a movie. Castiel seemed oddly engrossed. It was the first honest expression the cherub had seen on his brother since he had declared himself the new God.

To be fair the first leg of Castiel’s assent into godhood was wrought with madness and massacre. It had taken time for him to rein-in the souls and assimilate them into his being.

 _I am Castiel, the watcher,_ he told them. _I know of your pain. Do not fight me._

And what an agony it was. Vampires, shapeshifters, _monsters_ in human eyes banned from Heaven and barred from hell as if their _souls_ were worth less than that of the humans. What made humans so special? Why did they deserve to rule the earth while others slunk around in the shadows, shamed and afraid?

It made sense. The majority of humanity knew not of the others trying to pass as them or preying upon the weak. Things that go bump in the night were too common to go unnoticed, ignored, through the ages. Granted it was hunter practice to salt and burn all the evidence, but why did the creatures of darkness feel the need to conceal themselves? There would have been plenty of physical evidence, enough to convince even the staunchest skeptics, to prove that humanity wasn’t alone unless the creatures themselves made an effort to keep their secrets.

As long as humans believed that only humans existed then the creatures could have some hope of blending in. In hiding they had little to fear except from the occasional hunter and if they happened upon another non-human they would just nod in acknowledgement, but politely not draw attention to themselves. It was a silent agreement and Castiel had watched over them too.

The cherub admired his brother’s ability to subdue the restless souls. Everyone was convinced that the overdose of power would kill the angel, another reason so many had readily agreed to the plan. The heavenly archer hesitated yet again as he weighed his emotions. Castiel had been expendable. Castiel excelled in two things, his attentiveness to his watch duty and his military stratagem. There were other divine eyes on earth and while Castiel was a good tactician he wasn’t the best heaven had to offer. His dedicated single-mindedness was the only distinguishing trait the angel had to offer that set him apart from his siblings.  

 _Stubborn_ , that was the word for it. It had allowed Castiel to survive and now the cherub was going to redirect all that energy into a single target. The cherub steadied his bow and fired at the human, not his brother. The cherub wasn’t ready to put the final nail in Castiel’s coffin just yet. The cherub decided the human should fall first.

This proved to be an error of judgment on his part. Even if the cherub had struck true to his target it would have tipped Castiel off to their plan. The cherub wouldn’t have had enough time to take a second shot. Either way Castiel reacted on instinct. Faster than a flinch Castiel shielded Dean from the cherub’s blow and countered with a shot of his own power.

The cherub was dead before Castiel realized what he had done. Castiel shuddered as the foreign power, his father’s power in its most potent form, raced through him like a lightning storm.

Castiel wouldn’t remember how it happened. All he would recall later on was the taste of Dean Smith on his lips and a barrage of new sensations. He was blinded by the intensity of the human’s soul as he drank greedily every sensation pulsing through his vessel. Castiel’s fingers ran over soft cotton and silk then warm flesh. The ex-angel noted every muscle twitch as they moved against each other. After a few overwhelming moments Castiel forced himself back.

“I can’t,” he said in parched voice. “I-I’ve never-“

Dean would have raised an inquisitive eyebrow if he wasn’t panting.

“You’re what…” Dean didn’t bother guessing Castiel’s age. “And you’re telling me you never got past second base?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Dean snorted. “Seriously? You’re unreal dude.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean chastised as he stood up. He picked up his shirt and found it torn in a few places. “Damn, you’re strong for a nerdy guy. So, do you want to stop? I know I’m one hell of catch, but I’d hate for your first time to be a one night stand.”

An unfamiliar bolt of pain struck Castiel in the chest in response to the idea of separating from Dean. Castiel panicked. If he couldn’t have the human’s heart, he should at least allow himself this much. Would the memory be enough to carry him? Castiel knew if he denied Dean’s proposition now, he would regret it for eternity.

“No, I wish to continue.” Castiel told him sharply. After seeing Dean flinch in surprise at the outburst Castiel back pedaled. “I-i-if that’s alright with you, of course. I am not, as you say, ‘a catch’, but I-“

Dean was doubled over in laughter.

“Relax, dude,” Dean told him and Castiel tried to oblige. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun,” Castiel nodded solemnly making Dean snort again.

Dean scratched his head trying to figure out a way to lighten the mood. He snapped his finger when an idea came to his head. Dean walked to his bedroom and plugged in his stereo.

“The 80s night at the club,” Dean said loud enough that Castiel could hear him from the other room. “They were sponsored by a radio station.”

Castiel gingerly stepped into the room. Unlike Dean he still had his shirt on. It was just unbuttoned. The digital clock on Dean’s nightstand displayed 11:35 PM in big red lights. Dean whipped around and pointed a stern finger in Castiel’s direction.

“Tell anybody about this…” Dean threatened sternly before turning back to his station hunt.

There was only one classic rock station in the whole city. In another life Dean might have mourned that fact, but for now he was just trying to find the blasted thing. He wanted to get the show on the road while the pleasant buzz still hummed in his veins and before tightness below the waistline faded and Dean lost his nerve.

A guitar rip screamed over a hushed _tap-tap-CRASH tap-tap-CRASH ba-dum tap-tap._ He turned back to his house guest to find Castiel's expression threatening to burn Dean alive with lust. The bass drum sound seemed to punch though Dean’s chest like a surgeon giving him a manual heart massage. Castiel was gorgeous. Dean would grant him that. He felt a flash of awkwardness as a male voice screamed over the speakers. This was so not his thing, but Castiel reached for Dean’s face and pulled him in for a soft peck on the lips.

The kiss wasn’t heat inducing at all by itself so Castiel made a trail along Dean’s jaw line on a path towards his right ear.

“I want,” Castiel confessed in an almost terrified whisper that was barely heard over the primal scream of lead singer of the power ballad. “By the end I want you to sound like that.”

A jolt originating at the tip of Dean’s head snaked its way down his spine and straight below his belt buckle. Castiel’s eyes almost glowed in want forever changing Dean’s view on the musical genre and for reasons Dean couldn’t explain to anyone, he was totally okay with that.

With each song the drums kept pounding on his chest like CPR. Without them Dean was sure that his heart would stop. The sound of the lead guitar felt like a warm sheet warping around them hiding their nudity. Not the nudity of the flesh, but as a way to preserve the modesty of his soul. Dean was convinced that Castiel’s gaze could look right though thim.

With Lisa Dean had used soulful music to keep their activities from being overheard by Ben. It hadn’t been a critical component of the activity itself. With Castiel the music gave them cues and allowed them to move in tandem. With each new song they synchronized flawlessly. It was especially important for the maximum enjoyment of Castiel’s first time.

 It was cheesy as hell, but the most fun Dean had had in a while and Lisa had known Kama sutra.

One thing was affirmed, however. Dean had a serious thing for dark haired brunettes.

* * *

 

“Bloody hell!” Crowley cursed. “Are you sure you got it all mate?”

Balthazar tapped one of the white file boxes irritably. “These are the hard copies of every correspondence dating back to the Stone Age. You better be bloody sure about this, Crowley.”

“Don’t look at me like that, you damn bureaucrat!” The king of hell snapped. “I’ve got my best people on this. Lawyers, financers, accountants, if there’s something you lot missed they’ll find it. I run a tight and _efficient_ operation here. You could learn a thing or two or, I don’t know, help out!”

“Boys!” Anael snapped. “Arguing doesn’t help us.”

“She’s right,” Inias added. “We don’t know how Castiel will retaliate and fighting won’t save us.”

“We need to get people on that,” Anael ordered. “We’ll need a small force to distract and detain.”

“You’re asking who’s willing to die, Anna.” Balthazar pointed out.

“I’ll lead them.” Anael said. “You stay here with Crowley if you’re scared.”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Balthazar retorted snidely. “Castiel is my favorite brother! I feel awful that it had to be him.”

Balthazar pointed to the piles upon piles of records. “Somewhere in there is a way to save him. I’m going to find it. You can go off and lead your little soldiers to their doom. I’m just letting you know where my priorities lie.”

“Understood.”

* * *

 

“Well, you’ve got a decent learning curve,” Dean commented lightly so he wouldn't appear nervous.

“Thank you, Dean. I’m glad you think so.” Although Castiel didn’t have the desire or need to eat, the scent of pancakes in the afternoon filled his chest with warmth.

Dean had finally used his sick day. After all God was visiting for the day. They had talked some. A lot of their communication had been on a physical level, but the message between them was clear.

“You’re dad’s not going to give you hell, excuse the pun, for rearranging things upstairs?” Dean asked casually.

Castiel shrugged. “I imagine it’ll be some time before he returns. We’re not bound by the same sequential laws of time that human perceive. It’s fluid. He could be back tomorrow or a thousand years from now.”

“That’s one heck of a milk run,” Dean said. “What’s so important that he had to step out anyway?”

“Does it matter?” the ex-angel asked. “He trusted the angels to act in his stead. His trust was misplaced.”

“Was it?” Dean asked feeling oddly philosophical. “I thought omnipotent would mean he knew you guys were too…inexperienced to handle it.”

Castiel leaned on his palm. “The way some scholars debate whether the serpent in Eden was really the devil or part of God’s plan. It’s an intriguing argument, but a bit moot, wouldn’t you say?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being cocky.”

He walked over and gave Castiel a friendly smooch on the cheek.

“Will you be alright?” Dean asked again for reassurance.

“Will you?” Castiel tilted his head. “This is a lot to take in. Angels, demons, God, monsters-“

“Working on it.” Dean sighed and rubbed his temples.

Castiel reached over and soothed the ache with his fingers. Dean smiled at him gratefully. They were about to kiss again when a loud cough interrupted them.

“Castiel,” Anael stood at attention with her blade drawn. A step behind her on either side fanned out in formation stood nine other angels.

Castiel glanced at the blades in their hands. “Those cannot harm me.”

“You’ve been fraternizing with a human.” Inias accused.

“You should open a dating service,” Castiel replied as he leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. “This was your idea, was it not?”

Dean wanted to give the man a mental high-five for mastering the art of sass. The angels bristled at their leader's retort. They had every right to be nervous, but while Castiel was powerful, Dean was not. The human would be their target. It was a test to weigh Castiel’s loyalty towards his siblings against a mere mortal. If Castiel chose poorly it would give his opponents the moral high ground. Once that happened it would not be just a small band of rebels fighting against him, but the whole of the remaining heavenly host.

Dean didn’t see all the flashy moves because the bastards were fast, but thanks to their earlier “exercise in synchronization” Dean was able to keep up with Castiel’s movement well enough to keep from getting ganked. Angel swords weren’t flashy weapons meant for duels. Unlike a mortal slash weapon which intended to bleed out an opponent, angel swords were quick and efficient for a single hit to a vital point.

"Where's Gabriel?" Dean hissed.

"Not his battle," Castiel replied as he smote another of his kin. "He watches the earth in my place."

Castiel used his god powers to clear a path.

“Go Dean!” he ordered.

“Not a damsel in distress dude,” Dean argued.

Castiel shoved two swords in his hands and pushed mortal in the right direction. “Go, now! Sam should be waiting outside.”

“Sam? Why?”

“His grandparents were Campbells.” Castiel replied.

“Like the soup?” Dean asked confused.

“He comes from a long line of hunters,” Castiel explained hurriedly as he blew up two more of his siblings. “I asked him to come. I need you safe, Dean!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Hester spat out and blocked the human’s departure.

“WAIT! Stop the stabbing!” Balthazar dove into the room from above with a paper in his hand. “Anna! We found it! Crowley is a still a slimy bastard, but he knows his stuff! A missed memo, would you believe it?”

Anael wasted no time snatching the document and taking off. At the same time Castiel caught Hester from behind and shoved Dean out the door.

“Anael!” Castiel roared. “Oh, for my sake.”

Castiel grabbed Balthazar by the front of his shirt and hauled him off his feet.

“Where did she go?” Castiel shouted. “What was on that paper?”

Fearing for his existence Balthazar didn’t even think about lying. He briefly explained the nature of note detailing the original plan up to the point where Dean was meant to be the righteous man. Castiel gave pause as he weighed the truth he was given and the utter horror that awaited Dean if Anael succeeded in her quest.

“Just let it happen, Castiel!” Balthazar pleaded. “This way you can still be his angel. The path of the righteous man is one of solitude and tears. You’ll still be his _guide_! It’s _God’s_ plan! Let your burdens be lifted. He’s just one human.”

“I have my own plan.” Castiel growled. “And answer me this, brother- how many ‘just one human’s is heaven willing to sacrifice for their great plan? Because the way I see it, you’re just one angel.”

Balthazar gasped as Castiel’s blade pierced his chest and snuffed out his grace. His vessel fell leaving a singed imprint on Dean’s carpet. Looking around Castiel realized the other angels had fled. Anael’s detainment force was less willing to die than she had believed. Satisfied that Dean was safe for the moment, Castiel gave chase.

* * *

 

The city streets were dark. The stars unobscured by light pollution. Whole galaxies stretched out for human eyes to ogle. Men’s lives were shorter then. Medicine was less advanced and infection was a common cause of death, but Joseph E. Smith did his best. He was studying to be a surgeon in a time when a surgeon was no better than a butcher; when a surgeon’s level of skill was gauged by how fast he could saw through a femur.

The United States were no longer as such. The north and south engaged and in bloody feud. Young men marched against each other while families took picnics in the late afternoon only to have their appetites for both blood and sandwiches ruined by actual death and decay. Joseph was fortunate enough to be a student of medicine and thus exempt from the military lists. His brother, Daniel, was too young to enlist, but that would change if the war dragged on into next summer. The hot head was itching for a piece of the action despite his older brother’s constant attempts to interest him in the academic.

If things played out like they were supposed to, Daniel would soon drown himself in the academic fields in pursuit of the answer to one question: Why did his brother have to die?

Anael waited with a warrior’s patience. Joseph would finish his shift at the hospital any minute. According to the memo Daniel, with the intent of surprising his brother on the way home, was on his way to meet his brother when he should attacked by some supernatural creature. From the description Anael assumed it is either a vampire or a werewolf. Unfortunately nothing reached her senses.

“Looking for this?”

The body made a WHUMP sound as it fell at Anael’s feet. Castiel flicked his wrist to rid his sword of excess blood. The young god makes a terrifying sight covered in specks of the creature’s blood. A drop or two colored his face, but the scariest thing of all is the frigid look in his eyes. Anael read her death in them.

“What the-?” A soft, youthful voice gasped.

Daniel quickly covers his mouth to muffle a squeak, but it’s too late. The heavenly beings turn and Anael is faster. She moves to grasp the boy by the back of his neck and holds her weapon to his throat.

“We only need one of the brothers to live, Castiel.” She warned.

“Let him go, Anael,” Castiel ordered. “Release him and I will show you mercy.”

“A merciful death is better than life under your rule,” Anael told him.

Castiel exhaled in exhaustion.

“It’s not me you hate, Anna.” He noted. “You want to be free of heaven, not free of me. I would honor your wish, but you continually show only a mild curiosity towards humans if not contempt. Even if you fell, it would be half-heartedly. A part of you will always be tied to heaven.”

Anael pressed the blade closer to slitting Daniel’s throat.

“Anna!”

The crack of a gun shot made them all jump.

“Let my brother go.” Joseph Smith ordered as he lowered his revolver to aim at the red haired angel. He pushed irritably at the spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “I’m a better shot than I look. That first one was just a warning.”

Anael growled and threw her blade like a dart. Joseph made a half a choking sound as the angel blade hit him in the center of his chest. The light in his eyes faded instantly.

“Joseph!” Daniel cried as he broke free of Anael’s relaxed grip. He shook his brother frantically trying to find signs of life. His older brother remained limp with the shocked expression frozen on his face.

Anael screamed as Castiel slit her throat. Her grace burned bright blue and died out. On the ground were her vessel fell the outline of ash colored wings were burned into the surface of the earth. Castiel stepped over her to move in and heal Joseph, but Daniel yanked the blade from his brother’s chest and held it at arm’s length. With a trembling hand he pointed it at Castiel.

“Don’t come any closer!” The boy shouted. “What are you? What the bloody hell are you, you monster?!”

Castiel felt a sharp squeeze in his chest. The boy’s eyes… they were just like Dean’s. Castiel stopped at the boy’s command and waited.

“I asked you-“

“You’re right,” Castiel said solemnly as he looked at the blood on his sword and hands. “I am a monster. I’m the king of monsters actually. I realize that now although I should have known all along. The fighting and the killing. It doesn't end. I don't know how to stop it. I'm God, but I don't know!

Daniel gritted his teeth. “I swear that I’m going to find you and every crazy bastard just like you. I will hunt you all until not a single one is left roaming the earth. I will kill you all in my brother’s name.”

“That’s not what your brother would have wanted.”

“I don’t care!” Daniel snapped. “It’s what I want.”

Castiel sighed. “You truly are Michael’s vessel. I would-“

The air was forced out of Castiel’s lungs as the youth drove Anael’s blade home. Castiel was surprised, not by the blow, but the flames of hatred reflected in the boy’s green eyes.

The wound didn’t matter. Castiel could already feel the wheels of time ripping against their gears rolling backwards, being rewritten. The Castiel that he was, all that he had accomplished, all the blood on his has was being torn away. A new Castiel with a different narrative would take his place. His father’s plan was back in motion. The dominoes had been reset.

Castiel didn’t pray to his father. He didn’t plead for the sake all he was about to lose. Castiel prayed, but said the only prayer that mattered.

“Dean.”

 _fin_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it this far, you might as well comment.


End file.
